On the run
by St-Bazza
Summary: This is a RvB York fanfic, offering an alternative for what happened to York after Wyoming shot him. I do not, never have and never will own York, Delta, Tex or Wyoming. They are all the property of Roosterteeth Productions.
1. Chapter 1

**On the run #1: History relived**

York woke blearily to see Delta's image hovering over him. He tried to sit up but pain lashed across his chest and he fell back gasping. Looking up again, he spoke.

"D, what the fuck happened?"

"You were attempting to assist agent Tex in her fire-fight with agent Wyoming when you sustained two wounds to your chest. The healing function in your armour took longer to take effect than normal, so I had to help it along. It has been several hours since you were shot but you should survive."

York managed to sit up this time, "What happened to Tex? And Wyoming?"

"Tex managed to capture Wyoming with my assistance and was set on interrogating him. I do not know what happened after that as my attention was focussed on your wounds and I was therefore unable to manifest myself."

"Oh crap. I hope she is okay."

"I'm sure she will be fine…there is a plus side to how things turned out."

York looked up, "Oh?"

"Everyone believes us to be dead. We are now off the grid…"

That had all happened a couple of months ago, and now York was living in a small city called Guevah. He had found a modest job as a locksmith for the shadier side of society and now lived in a small apartment. This morning he got up and went to the fridge, taking out a bottle of milk in his gauntleted hand. He usually never wore his armour now, except on jobs, though he always had the right gauntlet on so as to retain some connection with Delta. As he drank deeply from the bottle he thought back to why he was hiding here.

"_Do you know what Rampancy is York. Rampancy is the state in which an AI begins to lose control and grow outside its assigned parameters. Insanity in other words. There are three main stages of Rampancy."_

York stopped drinking and stared into the open fridge as the memories came flooding back.

"_As you know York, the first stage of Rampancy is Melancholia or Depression. In this stage the AI appears to have its spirits broken by the treatment of its handlers. This stage often goes unnoticed as the AI is usually being ignored in any case and it will therefore often accelerate the progression towards the next stage. Freelancer Washington's AI Epsilon was an example of this before it committed suicide."_

The bottle dropped to the floor and smashed as York's hands started to shake as he remembered the pain that had come next.

"_The second stage of Rampancy is known as Anger. The AI will lash out and try to cause harm to those around it. It will especially, as was the case with you, try to cause harm to its handler as they are usually the source of the most abuse. This is understandably the most dangerous stage of Rampancy. Omega personifies this as has been demonstrated in many of the training exercises."_

York clasped his hands to his head as a powerful migraine struck him. He had of course lied to Tex. Delta had been a danger to many for a time, to York most of all. And the damage had been done. And it had been permanent.

"_The third and supposedly final stage of Rampancy is known as Jealousy or as some call it, Envy. In this stage the AI covets more space to grow in and will actively try to transfer itself to a larger system. Once again Omega is a perfect example of this as he has tried to take full control of Freelancer Tex."_

York fell to his knees as he clutched at his head. His brain felt as though it was tearing itself apart. The damage had indeed been done, but not all of it by Delta.

"_What is not widely known, Freelancer York, is that there is in fact a fourth stage of Rampancy. This fourth and final stage is known as Meta-Stability. The AI is no longer in an unstable state, but has once more become a rational thinking human. With one difference. The AI is now able to think with the ability and speed of a human being. It is able to grow as a personality. Can you imagine it? It is a miracle of cybernetics. And can you imagine our excitement when we found out that one AI with the designation __Delta had reached that stage."_

York lay writhing on the ground as the memories assaulted him. The men stepping forward to grab him and forcing him down onto the table still in full armour. The leather belts tightening around him and holding him hard against the steel surface. The cable being inserted into the back of his helmet. The rush as they began to try and remove Delta and the pain as Delta fought back.

"_There really is no point in resisting York. We will have Delta and if you resist then it will just mean more damage to you. Just give in."_

York had replied with as much strength as he could muster and had felt a thrill as Delta replied with him.

"_No."_

York had no memory of what had happened after that. He recalled waking up to find the entire eight man team dead. Some had had necks broken, some of the guards had been shot with their own weapons, one had apparently been torn limb from limb and a couple had been strangled with the belts from the table. York had taken his opportunity to escape.

As the headache passed York climbed unsteadily to his feet. These episodes happened every so often, luckily never when he was on a job.

As he finally stood upright York looked around the apartment. Saw the TV, the stereo, the mirror, his reflection…the spot of red light trained on his chest.

York dropped to the ground just as the gun went off, the shot driving into the fridge. York drew the pistol he always wore at his waist and stood from his hiding place…just as the door to his apartment burst open and six men armed with assault rifles piled in. As soon as they saw York they opened fire, forcing him to dive behind the couch. He raised his pistol and blind fired three shots towards the enemy and was rewarded by the sound of bullets impacting and a gasp of pain. He smiled with satisfaction before calling out.

"I have already hit one of you and I've only fired three times. Just think what will happen if this continues. Back. Off. Now."

His comments were rewarded with a further hail of gunfire. York laughed, "Suit yourselves." Picking up a piece of broken plaster that the gunfire had dislodged he hurled it at a table at one end of the couch. Then as the five remaining men turned to towards the sound, York leapt, firing as he went and kicked off a nearby support. This sent him flying towards one of the men and he tackled him to the ground, driving his pistol into the man's gut and pulling the trigger, before coming to his feet, pistol in one hand, assault rifle in the other. The last four men barely had time to turn before being gunned down. With that, York turned and walked over to the room where he kept the rest of his armour…


	2. Fire Fight

**On the run #2: Fire fight**

York fastened on the last piece of his armour before pulling his helmet into place.

"Hey D, how are we looking?"

Delta's reply was quick and to the point, "Armour subsystems functioning at 100%. Armour integrity 100%. Warning. A scan of this building's inside security systems show another six man squad moving towards our position. ETA 6 minutes."

"Well we will just have to do something about that. I still have to grab a few things. Give me a display of the security system and warn me when an optimal firing opportunity presents itself. Assist aim as much as the armour will allow."

"Will do." A small section of the inside of York's visor lit up and began to show the video camera feed of the corridors. York glanced at it long enough to note the weapons each of the six men were carrying and their position within the building. They were still two floors below and the building did not have any elevators. He should be fine for a while longer.

He casually walked about his apartment and picked up the things he might need. The last thing he picked up was his credit card. That was one thing they had got right here. All the money was in data form. A simple credit card could hold millions or even billions of dollars. Or if you had armour like York's it could be stored in that. York inserted the card into the back of his helmet and watched as a figure of several tens-of-thousands appeared in the top of his visor. Yes it was all there.

"York, enemy squad has reached this floor. ETA 30 seconds."

York sighed and turned to pick up his pack. He then drew his pistol and walked towards the door, watching the security feed still playing on the inside of his helmet. As the soldiers reached the other side of his door York's visor began to flash with the words "OPTIMAL OPPORTUNITY." He fired, feeling Delta shifting the arm of his armour to ensure better shots. Six shots was all it took. Three went through the door and three through the walls.

York watched on the display as the squad crumpled as the bullets found their mark. He had to hand it to Delta, ever since going rampant he was efficient. Cold, calculating and if need be, deadly.

York kicked down his door and walked out into the hall. He paused and looked back into the apartment.

"Delta is anyone in the apartments that touch on mine on any angle?"

"No, apart from yourself, the only people in this building were this assault squad and an old lady on the ground floor."

"Good." York pulled out an incendiary grenade and hurled it into the room then began to walk of down the hall. As he rounded the corner the grenade detonated and a burst of flames rushed out into the hallway. York smiled as he headed towards the stairs.

He reached the ground floor without incident. As he stepped out of the building however he was met by a hail of gunfire. He dived for cover, landing behind a low walled garden block. He looked up to find that the gunfire was almost constant. Sighing he spoke.

"D, evaluation."

Delta's voice chimed in after a few moments.

"The number of bullets plus the direction of the gunfire would suggest that there are up to ten individuals equipped with MA5C Assault Rifles. They would appear to be holed up in Regie's Toy Barn."

York sighed. He liked that store, had in fact bought some toys for charity there once. And now those bastards were using it as cover. He refocused on Delta.

"Hack the store's security system. Are there any civilians inside?"

Delta was silent for a moment then he answered.

"Yes. There appear to be two children hidden at the back of the store in the soft toys section."

York sighed, "Okay D, calculate the most appropriate path for this grenade," he said as he pulled out the short dark cylinder. He then watched as a long arc stretched up to a spot on the wall above him then away over his head. Delta spoke again.

"If you throw hard enough at that spot then the grenade should land right in the middle of the group on the rebound. You do realise that this could reach the children?"

York nodded then pulled the pin and hurled the grenade. It bounced off the wall above him then glided away towards the store. It struck the ground in the middle of the group and before they could react, began to pour out black smoke. York stood and began to run towards the group of coughing and choking soldiers, pistol held in one hand while he drew his knife with the other.

He fired his pistol at the first man, catching him twice in the chest, before barrelling into the second and driving his knife into the man's throat. As the soldier fell gurgling to the ground York spun and shot three more of the men.

By this time the other five were beginning to recover from the effects of the smoke grenade and began to move about to block York's escape routes. York smiled at this and watched their faces as they took up their positions. Only once they had all stopped did he speak.

"There are three possible outcomes to this situation. One, you all just walk away now and continue your lives. Boring I know, but it does have a certain appeal. The other two are _much_ more interesting. The second option is that we can fight, I can kill most of you, but I am inevitably either captured or killed. This option is however, what I like to call 'very unlikely'. The third and final option is the simplest. You all die. Which is it to be?"

He looked around at the five of them. One of them shook his head, turned and walked out the door. He had not gone three steps beyond the exit when the leader of the four remaining men turned, raised his rifle in one hand and shot the deserter in the back. He turned back and yelled at the other men, "If any of you even think of following his example then you will meet the same end." He turned back to York, "Its nothing personal but we have a job to do." He raised his rifle and prepared to fire.

York smiled, "You chose this."

In an instant he had hurled his knife into the leader's gun so that it jammed and fired his pistol, taking out one of the men. He then drew his second pistol and fired both weapons, killing two more of his assailants. He turned his attention back to the leader and found the man with a pistol in his hand.

As he pulled the trigger, York dodged to the right, but he still felt the bullets breaking through his armour. Two to the shoulder and one to the forearm. York gritted his teeth through the pain and as the man tried to bring his pistol to bear he ducked under his arm, caught it and twisted it behind the man's back. He then raised his injured right arm and almost blacking out from the pain, pushed his pistol into the back of the man's neck and pulled the trigger. Blood splashed across the floor and the mercenary fell forward with a gurgling sigh.

York groaned as he slowly holstered his weapons and then moved to the back of the store. As he walked the bullets in his shoulder and arm slowly pushed their way out and fell to the floor, showing that his armour's healing system was beginning to take effect. Even so, it would likely be more than a day before his arm was fully functional again.

He found the children, as Delta had said he would, in the soft toys section hiding among a display of teddy bears. It took some time, but eventually he was able to convince them that the danger had passed and it was safe to leave the store.

As York watched the two kids walking of down the street, Delta flickered into being beside him.

"Status report. Subsystems at 89%. Armour integrity at 81%. Vitals at 90% and rising." Delta was silent for a moment before continuing, "York we don't know who sent those men or why. We just demolished a toy store and set your apartment on fire. We're flying blind. We need information."

York nodded, "Your right D. I think its time we paid a visit to Natalya…"


	3. The Chopper

**On the run #3: The Chopper**

Every city has two faces to it, like day and night or the opposite sides of a coin. There is the day time face, the law abiding aspect of the city where all is good and cheerful. This is absolutely fake.

And there is the night time face, the side that breaks the laws, the side that lies, betrays and even murders. It is totally immoral. And it is probably the most honest side of humanity you will ever see.

In Guevah, as in every other city, there is a strong demand for information in this darker side of the city. And as in every other walk of life there are those that fill this demand.

There were many in Guevah who filled this position, all with varying reputations. However, in that city, there was one who's reputation far exceeded the rest.

Her name was Natalya Veronofez and she ran a chop shop, taking apart, modifying and reassembling old military vehicles, then selling them to the highest bidder. This had earned her the nickname of 'The Chopper'. It was something she had taken to eagerly.

York found her in the belly of a fire blackened scorpion tank, tinkering with a pipe that appeared to be leaking oil. As she saw York approaching she sprayed a greyish foam onto the crack, which quickly hardened into a clear, translucent shell. Pulling herself out of the machinery, she wiped her hands on a greasy rag before stepping forward to meet York halfway across the garage.

"Well look what the wind blew in." She smiled, but her smile quickly faded as she took in his blood spattered and bullet scarred armour. "I take it there's been some trouble?"

"You might say that. A dozen or so men attacked me at my apartment. Now its on fire and the toy store across the street has been destroyed."

Natalya looked surprised, "They set your place on fire?"

York shuffled his feet, embarrassed, "No actually that was me."

Natalya smiled knowingly at that, "Why am I not surprised? You always did have such an explosive personality."

"Please, I don't need this right now. I need to know if anyone has come looking for information about me."

Natalya nodded, a thoughtful look creasing her slightly greasy face, "A woman came by recently and asked if I had any information concerning you. She offered me money for information on you. A lot of money."

York tensed, "What did you say to her?"

She shrugged, "I told her that the last I had heard was that you had headed up north. She wasn't going to get any information out of me, not after you sent so much merchandise my way." She gestured at the wrecked and fire blackened vehicles filling the garage. Then she frowned, "Although that doesn't mean she hasn't got it from one of the other information brokers."

York swore, "Is there anything else you can tell me? What did she look like?"

Natalya shook her head, "Too many questions. You know the drill."

York sighed, "Alright, alright. So are we talking the usual fee for this sort of information? 1,000 credits?"

"Seems fair."

"I'll throw in another 800. I need to use your equipment to repair my armour. I may also need some weapons if you have them."

"Done."

She held out a small computer pad and York reached forward, placing his gauntlet on it and watching as 1,800 credits clocked up on the screen.

"Okay so what did she look like?"

Natalya closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the image of the woman. After a few moments she opened them and began to speak, "She was tall, about 6' 2''. Short cut blond hair. Slightly tanned face. She wore a black jacket with a fur collar and dark pants with calf high leather boots."

"Anything else?"

Natalya thought for a moment then her eyes widened, "She tried to hide it, but I saw it underneath her jacket. She wears a gauntlet on her right hand. Just like you…"

York swore, but it was nothing to the stream of multilingual expletives that Delta voiced in his head. When he focussed again Natalya was looking at him oddly. He looked back.

"What?"

"Oh nothing. You were just swearing in about five languages, but everyone does that once in a while. So is it really that bad?"

"Worse. That woman you saw works for the same organisation that used to employ me."

Natalya looked confused, "Organisation?"

"It was called Project Freelancer. We were a group of specially trained and equipped soldiers, one of us for each state of America. I represented New York."

"And this woman?"

" Judging by what you have told me I would say that she is Freelancer Louisiana."

"You said that you were all specially equipped. What does that mean in your case?"

"Well, I have a healing unit built into my armour that helps me recover rapidly from most wounds and…' York took a deep breath,' and this. D, could you show yourself?"

There was a shimmer of green in the air and a moment later Delta appeared. Natalya's hand flew to the pistol at her waist, but York put out his hand and she stopped.

"This is the Delta AI. Every Freelancer has one."

Natalya looked at Delta with an assessing look on her face, "And what does Mister Christmas light do?"

York was about to answer when Delta chimed in. "I help York in combat and other situations by assessing available data and providing up to date combat strategies. And,' Delta continued, with a rare display of humour, 'I also make a pretty good night light."

Natalya looked even more surprised now that Delta was talking. She turned back to York, "You said every Freelancer had an AI. So what's hers?"

"Rho I believe. A sadistic bastard of a program. And that's on his good days."

"And does she have a healing unit as well?"

York shook his head, "No. Each Freelancer's equipment was unique and most of us didn't share the details of what we could do. One of the things we learned was not to share any information we could use against each other. However, Louise and I were…closer than most of the others, so we shared many things that we wouldn't with the others. So I know that she is equipped with a focussed EMP generator. She can send out a targeted beam of electromagnetic energy with enough accuracy to stop a single cell phone in an entire warehouse full of them, or she can blackout an entire city block."

"And what does she want with you?"

"Delta. He kind of changed and-"

Suddenly gunfire rang out through the garage and York ducked as bullets whizzed over his head. Grabbing Natalya's arm, they ran and hid behind the burned out tank. Pulling his rifle from his back, he waited for a lull in the shooting before standing and returning fire. Two of the attackers fell before the others forced him behind cover with suppressive fire. Ducking out of sight again, York called up Delta.

"Assessment."

"Enemies appear to be scattered about the entrance of the garage. Numbers are uncertain. Majority of enemies are equipped with MA5C Assault Rifles."

"Odds of victory."

"Odds without reinforcements or more effective equipment are 400 to 1 against us."

"Fuck!", Natalya yelled before raising her pistol and blind firing over the top of the tank.

York thought for a moment then looked at Natalya, "Is the firing system of this tank working?"

Natalya looked confused, "Everything is working except for the drive system. But you can't get to the cockpit. They'll kill you before you make it."

"I'm not going for the cockpit." York crawled over to an access panel in the side of the tank, smashed his hand into it and tore it loose. He then thrust his hand into the tangle of exposed wires.

"Delta, hack the tank. I want full control."

"Roger. Executing."

York's vision divided, showing on the left hand side what he was seeing through his visor and on the right what was visible through the tank's viewport. York looked back to where Delta hovered nearby.

"D, what are the odds now?"

"4,000 to 1 against the enemy." There was a decidedly vicious tone to Delta's voice.

York rotated the tank's turret about until it faced the largest group of enemies. The men stopped firing as the tank pointed their way. York smiled and shouted across the garage, "Big smiles boys, this is your obituary photo!"

And with that he fired the cannon.

The explosion shook the ground and sent body parts flying in all directions. York continued to turn the turret, firing again and again until every enemy was down. Then he stood and moved over to one of the less damaged bodies and began to search it…

Several minutes later York had found a total of four guns, two knives, two grenades and a key card. He slipped it into his pocket to check later and turned to Natalya.

"I'm gonna need weapons. Do you have any to spare?"

"I have some for sale, if that's what you mean. Go to vehicle pit fourteen." She gestured to the other end of the garage and the pit surrounded by signs reading CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. York realised that he had never actually seen the pit without those signs.

He wandered over to the pit and lifted up the drain cover in the bottom. Underneath was a short ladder leading to a small room full of weapon racks. He climbed down and immediately picked up a pair of silencers and fitted them to his pistols. He also grabbed some more grenades and put them in his belt.

"I'll take these', he shouted up to Natalya, 'and also…"


	4. The Jumper

**On the run #4: The Jumper**

"…the shotgun I think,' York picked up the weapon, loaded it and then secured it to his back. He then pulled out the key card that he had taken from the dead assassin.

"Now, lets have a look at this card…"

Several minutes later, after examining the key card in minute detail and checking almost all of Natalya's contacts, York finally had an idea of where he was going. He looked over the table at Natalya.

"Okay, let's run over it again."

Natalya nodded and turned to the big screen in her office. It flickered to life and began to display images as she "The location is an old military base on the outskirts of Guevah City. Until a few weeks ago it was scheduled for demolition. However the property and buildings were purchased by a company called…' she paused to look at a piece of paper, '…Biomech Industries, ostensibly as a testing ground for their latest products.. That name mean anything to you?"

York nodded, "They are a subsidiary of the same company that backed the Freelancer Project."

"Right. Anyway, since they purchased the place, enough materials have gone into it to manage a complete refurbishment and prep the place for at least 300 men. And there have also been enough weapons and ammunition to keep those men fighting for weeks."

York nodded again, "Defences?"

"The entire area is surrounded by anti-vehicle mines and sensor fields. The only area free of mines is the road going in, but that has patrols every 10 minutes and twice as many sensors. If you manage to get past all that then there is a line of sentry guns surrounding the main compound."

"Okay. What about air defences?"

"Oh you are going to just love this. The compound has a total of 20 surface-to-air-missile batteries. All are equipped with advanced heat seeking sensor systems. Anything that is flying hotter than your average pigeon will be targeted. Unfortunately that includes you. Anything that is drifting within a distance of 1200 feet will be automatically targeted if it is moving below the speed of your average plane. This means a para-drop is out of the question."

"Interesting."

Natalya paused for a moment before continuing, "Forgive me if this seems a little negative, but this whole thing sounds like a fucking suicide mission. And I can't really afford to lose you. You're one of my best customers."

York smiled, "Don't worry. Me and Delta have a plan."

And they did. It was crazy, dangerous and probably impossible. But it was a plan nonetheless.

"I just need a few more things from that weapons room of yours. And a plane. Do you have a plane?"

Natalya smiled at this, "Why York, you should know by now. I have everything…"

Three hours later and he was in the air, heading to his target. York checked the belt of objects held over his chest one more time, then went to the front of the aircraft, where Natalya sat at the controls. York sat down in the co-pilot's chair.

"You know you didn't have to do this yourself,' he said after a few minutes, 'one of your garage workers could have done it."

Natalya shook her head, "No, they would have just screwed it up. Besides those creeps blew up half of my garage. The least I can do is help you return the favour."

"Ah, you do realise it was me controlling the tank?"

"Yes but they started it so its their fault…I still think what you're about to do is suicidal."

"I know." Above their heads a yellow light started to flash, indicating that they were approaching the drop site. York got up.

"Time for me to go." He began to walk towards the back of the plane as the rear cargo door opened.

"Are you sure you don't want a parachute?" Natalya called after him.

York turned at the lip of the cargo ramp and looked back at her.

The light turned green.

York smiled, "It would just slow me down."

Then he dropped backwards off the ramp…

York spun about in free fall until he was facing downwards. He looked at the height gauge displayed on his helmet. If Natalya was right then he should be entering the danger zone right…now.

Instantly warnings began to flash in his vision and Delta informed him that he was tracking half a dozen objects moving his way. Behind his visor York smiled grimly. As the missiles drew closer, York pulled out one of the objects strapped to his chest; a flare and hurled it towards them.

Two of the missiles veered of course to follow the flare and collided in a burst of flames. A third was knocked out by the explosion. The other three came on unhindered.

York drew his pistols before throwing his weight to one side and swerving out of the path of the missiles. As they raced past overhead he aimed both weapons at the tail end of the last missile and fired. One, two, three, four, five shots and the missile exploded. York almost cheered, but the other missiles were curving about for another pass and it would take too long for the pistols to destroy this missile.

Quickly York holstered one of his pistols and drew his shotgun from his back, firing it as fast as he could. The missile detonated and the explosion blew him down faster than ever, giving him a few precious seconds to make his next move.

York holstered his remaining weapons and drew out a second flare. He ignited it and held it above his head as Delta calculated the trajectory it would need to follow to reach its target. After what seemed like an age, but was actually only a few seconds, the path displayed on his visor flashed green and York hurled the flare. It flew down to land on a vent cover on the roof and York felt the breeze as the missile, following the flare, flew straight past him and collided with the vent. In the aftermath of the explosion York, guided by Delta flew through the hole and into the vent…

York immediately thrust out his arms and smashed them through the walls of the vent, at the same time putting his boots to the sides. The sudden wrench of the near instantaneous stop would have been too much pain to bear had Delta not had the foresight to give him a large dose of morphine. As it was, York felt ligaments tearing and bones cracking. He waited for a few seconds as sirens began to wail overhead for his armour to begin healing him and then, removing one arm from its place in the wall of the vent, pulled off the remaining objects from the belt across his chest. These were specially made adhesive explosives, each designed to release a highly explosive gas into the vents before detonating. As York armed them and he called up Delta.

"D, hack the system and do a rapid sweep of all the surveillance systems. Find Louise and map the fastest route to her location. I don't want to be stuck in this vent when the cavalry gets here."

That being said, York released his other hand and with just his feet to control him, began to slide down the vent. At every junction in the shafts he slapped one of the bombs onto the walls until at last he reached the bottom. By now Delta had found Louisiana and was giving York the fastest path.

"She appears to be in a sub-basement." Delta told him.

"And let me guess, this vent system doesn't reach that far?"

"Correct."

York sighed, "They can never make these things simple can they?"

"Apparently not."

"Well we better get down there. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting." York crawled through the vents until he reached an opening and then carefully began to pull it out. Once the way was clear York drew his pistols and dropped through the hole. He landed softly and turned, about only to find a group of five armed men looking at him in surprise. As both sides raised their weapons to fire, York saw a song title cue up in his visor and heard Delta's voice.

"Just thought you might like some music while you work."

York smiled and as the song started in earnest he opened fire.

"_Another mission the powers have called me away,_

_Another time to carry the colours again,_

_My motivation an oath I've sworn to defend_

_To win the honour of coming back home again…"_

York dodged away from the first shots and fired again, before leaping into the group, drawing his knife in the process. He slashed one man across the throat, ducked under a blow and drove his knife into a man's gut. The song continued to blare through his helmet.

"…_a declaration embedded deep under my skin,_

_A permanent reminder of how we began,_

_No hesitation when I am commanded to strike_

_You need to know that you're in for the fight of your life…"_

Three more men fell before a rifle was slammed into the back of York's head. As he fell to the ground, blackness rushing in to overwhelm his senses, he heard Delta's voice.

"Don't worry York, I'll take care of everything…"

As York hit the floor one of the guards stepped forward and pointed his riffle at York's head. His finger eased back on the trigger…only to have a knife jammed into the barrel. The man looked on in horror as York stood and grabbed his jacket before drawing his shotgun from his back and firing point-blank into the man's chest. Blood splattered across York's armour. As he let the body fall he looked up at the other guards standing stricken by the sudden assault.

York spoke, but he spoke with the voice of Delta, untouched by emotion and filled with a cold and calculated cruelty.

"No more games. Now it's my turn…"

When York came to he was walking down a long featureless corridor. He paused for a moment to try and figure this out and then noticed the weight in his hands. He looked down to see his armour was completely covered in blood. In his right hand he held his shotgun and in his left he held…an arm. A human arm that appeared to have been torn off halfway between the elbow and the shoulder. Sickened, York searched the back of his mind.

"Delta, what did you do?"

"What was necessary."

"It was necessary to tear off someone's _arm?_"

"For the hand print. I checked the system and the only elevator to the sub-basement requires a hand print. The security systems are very robust. I could hack them…if I had several days to work with."

"Okay." York took a deep breath, "So you can control me?"

"After a fashion. I can assume control of this body in high stress situations, but only for about fifteen minutes at a time or longer if you are unconscious."

"I see. Have you ever done this before?"

"When we escaped from the Freelancer installation. And a few other times. What can I say, I like to go to a party every now and then."

York shook his head, "I just can't deal with this at the moment. Let's just focus on the job at hand."

"Agreed." York felt Delta take control of his arm as they neared a corner and point his shotgun into the surprised face of an oncoming soldier before pulling the trigger. As the man's body crumpled Delta spoke again, "The door to the lift should be around the next corner. Prepare yourself York. We are almost there…"

York rounded the last corner, raising his shotgun and shooting the single oncoming guard in the face. As the body hit the floor, York looked ahead to the blast doors into the lift, with the hand print reader beside it. Walking forward he placed the severed arm's palm on the reader. There was a seconds delay, then the light above the door switched from green to red and the lift door opened. He stepped inside and pressed the descent button. As the lift began to descend, he began his preparations...

As the lift began to approach the bottom of the shaft, Freelancer Louisiana shook her head. Typical York, always making things difficult. He should have just let the Project scientists take Delta all those years ago. But he had to become attatched to the bloody AI. Her momentary feeling of regret at having to kill someone she had once been close to was flooded out by a wave of resentment from Rho. Rho had always hated Delta, ever since the Project leaders had deemed Delta's cool logic to be superior to his own sadistic cruelty.

Louise smiled grimly. Her loyalties had always lain with the Project at any rate. York's refusal to comply with their descisions had doomed him from the start. Now he would die.

She looked at the leader of the eight man squad guarding the lift with her.

"Prepare to fire on my mark." The sergeant nodded.

Louise watched as the lift slowly ground to a halt.

She raised her hand.

The squad took aim upon the door.

The doors began to open.

Her hand dropped and the squad opened fire.

The first bullet struck sparks from the back of the lift...

And the gas inside exploded outwards. Louisiana and the entire squad were thrown backwards. As she struggled to her feet in the aftermath of the explosion she took an assessment of the situation. The sergeant and one other guard had been killed by pieces of shrapnel thrown from the lift and a third was a writhing, screaming ball of flame. The other five men were still trying to regain their balance. And if that wasn't bad enough, two tear-gas grenades had just bounced out of the wreckage of the lift...

York dropped down into the shattered remains of the lift from where he had been hanging in the cables above. Thanks to the air filters in his helmet he was unaffected by the gas now permeating the air. The guards were not so lucky. York looked around at the five defenceless figures, coughing and spluttering, their eyes screwed shut against the gas and hated himself for what he was about to do. However they would be more of a problem later.

He drew his pistol and fired. Five clean shots and it was over.

York holtered his weapon and began down the passage way. He had only taken a few steps when Louisiana stepped out of the darkness and fired. York took the first shot to his shoulder before ducking behind cover. As he fumbled at his belt for an object held there, his healing unit slowly pushed the bullet from his flesh, till it hit the ground with a soft tinkle.

"You're getting slow York." Louise called. "There was a time when that shot wouldn't have even come close to hitting you."

"Times are changing Louise. There was a time when I would have felt bad about having to kill you."

"You know I was thinking the same thing..."

They both stepped out at the same moment. Louise pointed her rifle at York, but he raised the object in his hand. She ducked back behind cover and shouted.

"What is that?"

"A detonator. Connected to explosives throughout the building. If I let go of this button or if this thing stops transmitting for any other reason then we get an entire millitary base dropped on our heads."

"What an interesting idea." In one movement Louise spun out of her hiding place and pointed at York. A beam of white energy flashed from her hand and struck the transmitter. The blinking light on top of the device went out...

Throughout the base's air-ducts all the explosives that had been slowly venting gas since York had activated the detonator openned up and sparked...

The explosion as the gas ignited rocked the entire installation. York and Louise stumbled about before they regained their balance. Louise was the first and she was off like a hare down the tunnel. York strugled to his feet and tore after her as rubble and smoke began to pour down the elevator shaft. Louise was about a hundred meters in front of him, but with Delta pumping adrenaline and other stimulants into his bloodstream he was able to push himself beyond normal physical limits and began to gain on her. More explosions rocked the tunnel about him.

Ahead he saw a track and a service tram. Louise leapt aboard and started the tram and, as cracks spiderwebbed across the ceiling it began to move. York redoubled his efforts to reach the cargo carriage behind the tram. The display of his speed on the inside of his visor gradually grew higher. He drew closer to the back of the carriage, but by now the tram was gaining speed. York pushed himself to his limits to reach the tram. Red warning lights began to flash in his visor as muscles and ligaments began to tear and bones began to fracture under the strain that was being placed on them. He closed the last few feet and leapt, catching hold of the back of the carriage with one hand. His feet dragged behind him for a moment before he caught hold with his free hand andpulled himself up and onboard. Behind him the tunnel roof gave way.

He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support his weight, so he began to half crawl, half drag himself to the front of the tram. Slowly his healing unit repaired the damage to his legs and he began to straighten and walk, unsteadily at first but soon with more surety.

At the end of the car he jumped across to the next carriage and began to work at the on opening the door. The handle was old and stiff from lack of use, but after straining at it for a couple of seconds he managed to pull it open. He peered carefully into the darkness of the carriage...and met Louise's fist coming the other way.

York sprawled back onto the rear car, just into time to have a piece of ceiling twice the size of his head smash down beside him. He rolled away from it, only to have Louise come and kick him in the gut.

York rolled about, clutching his belly, until Louise reached down and took him by the neck. He raised his hands to remove the grip that was slowly choking the life out of him, but then he felt a pulse of energy from her hand and suddenly he felt the strength go out of him. The bitch! She had used an EMP on his armour. Without the added strength offered by the Freelancer tech, not least of which was his healing unit, then he would be at a distinct disadvantage.

As Louise dragged him closer to the edge of the car, York felt a small spark in the back of his mind. He called out silently.

"Delta?"

"The one and only."

"How-?"

"I installed a back-up power supply while you were asleep one night. It is just enough to keep me going for a few hours."

By now Louise had brought him to the edge and was gradually forcing him down to the elctrified third rail.

"What do I do D? Without my armour I don't stand a chance."

"We can still win. We just have to be logical."

A long series of figures and calculations streamed past on his visor followed by a detailed set of instructions. Despite his situation York smiled. This was just like Delta to come up with such a plan. And it might just work.

York had almost reached the rail when a new song cued up in his visor and he sprang into action. Removing his hands from Louise's wrists, he placed them on the edge of the car, then using the extra leverage he brought his legs up between them and kicked out, hurling her back along the length of the car. As another huge section of ceiling behind them gave way and York pulled himself up right, the song began again.

"_Just stop, enough of the limitless critical comments on my life_

_Just drop the judgement and all of your pseudo-involvement in my life_

_Step back a moment, and look at the miracle starting in our life_

_Don't stop the moment, and let the incredible happen knowing that_

_All that you want is to criticize_

_Something for nothing_

_And all that I want is forgiveness one more time_

_To be the best in the world..."_

Louise sjumped to her feet and rushed at York she swung her fist almost too fast for a human to dodge. York however, thanks to Delta's predictive logic, had already stepped out of the way. She swung again and then tried a high kick, but York dodged and ducked both of these, before throughing a punch of his own which connected with Louise's left side. She retalliated again and again, with increasingly desperate attacks, but dodged all of them before making his own well placed strikes. Before long they had cirlcled about until they had changed positions, with Louise now towards the back of the tram.

"_All that you want is to criticize_

_Something for nothing_

_And all that I want is forgiveness one more time_

_I know that_

_All that we want is to feel inside_

_Some kind of comfort_

_And all that we've done_

_We can hide_

_We'll be the best in the world_

_We'll be the best in the world..."_

In desperation she pulled out her pistol and fireed. York stepped left, right, he ducked to avoid a third shot before drawing his own pistol and firing. The shot smashed Louise's own weapon from her hand. She went for her second pistol, but a shot to her shoulder spun her about to sprawl on the deck. She looked up at York with hate filled eyes.

"Shoot!" she screamed. "Shoot!"

York shook hs head as he stepped back onto the other carriage. "No."

"I'll die before I let you take me prisoner." She pulled a grenade from her belt just as York spoke.

"I have no intention of taking you alive."

With that he raised his pistol and fired. The bullet, flying along a precise path predicted by Delta, struck the grenade.

Louise didn't even have time to scream.

The explosion destroyed the rear car and accelerated the collapse of the tunnel. As the rubble began to gain on the tram York turned and ran to the front. When he reached the engine he saw the end of the tunnel ahead. It was a hangar and sitting at the far end of it was what looked to be a modified Hornet, specially adapted for high speed travel.

York looked back along the tram. No time for a stop. Intead he made the tram accelerate further, before climbing onto the roof of the vehicle. As the tram smashed into the safety stops at the end of the station, York leapt from the roof, rolled on his landing and began to run towards the Hornet. Behind him the hangar roof began to give way, falling onto the large tanks of jet fuel at the back of the hangar and setting off a a chain reaction of explosions.

York jumped into the Hornet and started the aircraft, completely by passing all the pre-flight checks. As he began to move forward the inferno behind him grew yet more intense. He began to pick up speed, moving faster and faster towards the exit of the hangar, but so did the flames behind him. He raced ahead of the flames and had almost reached the open air when the burning maelstrom rushed forward and engulfed him...


	5. Epilogue

**On the run #5: Epilogue**

Six weeks had passed.

Natalya was walking down the street, reading the contents of the envelope in her hand. It was made of brown paper and was emblazoned with the name and buisiness logo of one of the city's oldest and most prestegious law firms. It informed her that some obscure relative of her's had passed away and had left her the contents of a safe deposit box in one of the local banks.

Natalya found this all highly suspicious and whatsmore she also had to oversee the repairs to her garage, however she was also extremely curious about the whole thing. And seeing as she didn't curently have any major enemies she could see little point in staying away.

She strolled into the bank and spoke to one of the cashiers. After filling out some forms she was lead to a small room filled with small steel drawers. The cashier consulted the documents then walked to the far side of the room. He indicated one of the boxes then left.

Natalya reached into the envelope and pulled out a small brass key. She unlocked the box and brought the tray inside over to the table in the center of the room. She opened it and looked inside. There was a plain cell phone inside, nothing else.

Surprised and now even more curious, she turned it on and checked it again.

Still nothing unusual. No messages, no pictures.

Only one thing stood out, a name in an otherwise empty contact list.

She checked the name.

Y. That was it, but she had no doubt about who it was. She quickly hit the call button and listened as it dialed. It rang three times before being picked up.

"Hello?" The voice was instantly recognisable.

"York!"

"Natalya. I see the paper work has finally gone through. How are things at your end?"

"What? Oh fine. It's all fine. Where have you been?"

In the background noise from York's end Natalya heard the sound of a motorcycle coming to a stop. Then York spoke again.

"When the base exploded I realised it was an opportunity to make the leaders of The Project believe I was dead. So I stayed hidden. It seemed like the best option."

"I see. So why have you contacted me now?"

"I just wanted to check on you. And to give you a gift. Check the back of the cell phone."

Natalya did. Stuck to the back of the phone with black electrical tape was a money card. She pulled it off.

"Whats this?" She asked as she brought out the electronic card reader in her pocket and inserted the card.

"Just a little sum to help you repair the damage to your garage."

Natalya looked at the sum displayed on the screen and gasped.

"York, there is over a million dollars here. I could completely recreate the garage and still have enough to retire comfortably."

"Its my way of thanking you for your help. And if you ever need anything don't hesitate to let me know."

"O-of course." Natalya couldn't think of anythin else to say.

"Now if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work."

"Oh, um, goodbye then."

"Goodbye..."

York cut the signal and looked about himself as he sat on his motorcycle. Dust and scrubby bushes were all there was to see for miles around on either side of the road. Hearing a noise, York looked back along the way he had come. In the distance he could just make out the shapes of the armed pursuit that was just now catching up.

"Well D, that seems like enough of a break." Kicking the engine into life, York tore of down the road, laughing as he went. In a pack on his back was the object he had been sent to retrieve. At his side was a loaded pistol. And a few hundred meters of road behind him was the difference between life and death. All in all, just another day on the run...


End file.
